Ash
by Lyz Shadow
Summary: ."When you're best friends with Batman's daughter, you were mentored by the Flash, and an evil sorceress is possessing your sister's body, you don't expect your life to be normal. But I never thought I would be a hero." A NIGHTverse fic. Background BMWW
1. Fear

**Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League or any copyrighted characters (Batman; Wonder Woman; Superman; etc.), but I do own the characters Ashley and Wytch (oh, and Lena, but no biggie on that).**

**Please R/R, constructive criticism welcome :)**

Have you ever tried not to wake up, when you can feel the cold blade of a knife pressed to your throat? I have. I failed.

I opened my eyes, and looking back into mine were the shifty purple ones I've come to know far too well.

"Why are you here?" I whispered, trying not to move. The blade was already cutting into my flesh and I felt a line of blood slide down my skin. She laughed.

"You know why I'm here, little sister," Wytch grinned, "To make sure you remember who's boss."

I shivered. I'm not her little sister, I'm worse. I'm her twin. And she wouldn't let me lead a normal life while she was still breathing.

"Oh, you think you're so precious," she crowed. Precious to who? Our mother, and presumably our father as well, had died long before I could remember. I lived in an orphanage. She went on, regardless. "But you're not the normal little human you always thought you were. You and I spent nine months together, remember?" Uh, no, my memory kind of doesn't reach that far back. "Did you really think you came out unscathed?" Yes, this was something I'd questioned before. Nine months, that's a long time not to kill each other. We've never repeated the feat, that's for sure.

"Do you have a point?" I asked, still trying not to move my head.

"Yes."

"Then get to it, before I die of boredom."

She suddenly pulled the knife from my throat, which had gone in half a centimetre and hurt like hell when she ripped it out. Then she slashed it across my face, from the edge of my blind eye, right across my lips. It was a sudden move, and I recoiled. Wytch didn't usually chuck temper tantrums. I actually reached up and touched the cut on my face. It was deep, too deep, perhaps, to heal without stitches. I imagined explaining that to a doctor.

_Well, you see sir; my crazy sister who's got magical powers came into my room during the night with a pocket knife…_

Not.

Wytch was regarding me with a triumphant look in those violet eyes.

"I'll get to it in my own time, _sis_. I'm the one with power in this relationship, remember?" Relationship? I think it's better described as an arch enmity myself.

Wytch had backed off a bit, and I managed to get a look at Lena, my roommate. This orphanage was new, and it was two people per room. Though she irritated me a bit at times, I didn't mind Lena and seriously hoped Wytch hadn't killed her just to threaten me.

She was lying in her bed, and there were no obvious bloodstains, but I still held my breath and watched carefully. As soon as I saw she was breathing normally, I sighed with relief. _No deaths_, I said to myself, _it's fine as long as nobody dies_.

At the other end of the room, Wytch was looking less pleased with herself. Her facial expression screamed, _Pay attention to me, I'm talking!_

"Okay, fine, what were you saying?"

"You're a metahuman," she stated bluntly, knowing her speeches were lost on me.

"What?"

"You heard what I said."

I shook my head. "I know, but _how_?" How could I be a metahuman? That meant I could… do something, weird, special. But I couldn't. I'd always been helpless when it came to defending myself against others, whether it was Wytch and her coven (No offence to Wicca people, who I think might use this word too, I know you're not totally screwed up like my sister), or the school bully, or whatever. I could get as angry as I wanted, nothing was going to happen. Nothing to help me, at least.

Wytch just stared at me, misinterpreting my question.

"Weren't you listening to me _at all_?" she demanded. She brought up the knife again, and I saw it was covered in my own blood. But I was to stunned to feel pain, or fear.

"Not how did I become a metahuman," I said, staring into oblivion, "How _am I_ a metahuman?"

Wytch laughed, pleased to know something I didn't. By the way, you may have been thinking of her laughs as evil cackles, and picturing her as having a huge, hooked nose with a huge wart on it. Unfortunately, no. She's got this really irritating tinkly laugh, and she's pretty. The only not normal things about her appearance are her eyes, which are violet, as I have mentioned. But everyone wants a weird eye colour, and you can't go much weirder than purple.

"I'll give you a clue," she said, grinning evilly (perfectly straight teeth, pure white), "It's what our mother named you after."

Then she vanished, in that irritating way magic people do when you have an important question to ask them.

Even though I'm used to Wytch's "What is the sound of one hand clapping" talk, what she said creeped me out. As far as I knew, our mother hadn't named either of us. I'd always thought the orphanage had named me, and Wytch had just called herself that because she felt like it. Besides, the name Ashley indicates what? My mum liked names beginning with vowels and having three consonants in a row? Other than the fact my name has the same amount of vowels as it does consonants, it's pretty normal.

Why was I wasting my time, contemplating something my definitely mentally unstable sister had said? It was probably bogus to mess me up anyway. The problem at hand was her coming back, perhaps with more of her coven. I needed to get out here.

I changed clothed and was packed in less than ten minutes. I grabbed my bag and leapt out the window with well practised precision.

I looked back at the orphanage one last time. I was leaving a place I'd called home for six years. I turned back and kept running. Oh, who cares? It's just another lie anyway.


	2. Later

_Four Months Later, somewhere in Central City  
_

"Hey kid!" I didn't turn around, just kept running. A hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun my around.

"I said, HEY KID!" The man yelling at me was at least six foot, and about a metre broad. His nose looked like it had been broken more than a few times, and I found myself hoping I could break it again.

"What do you want?" I asked coldly. He laughed and, surprise, surprise, a few of his mates emerged from the shadows.

"Valuables, kid?" I just glared at him, then added,

"You know many runaways carrying valuables?"

He looked a bit thrown off by that, even though it's not necessarily true. I had my Ipod in my pocket and my phone and laptop in my bag, along with all the money I had. But he didn't know that. It occurred to me that this guy wasn't the brightest light in the chandelier. He'd followed me into a walk through alleyway, and thought he and his mates could corner me. He didn't even have a knife.

As if he had very weak mind reading powers and had only picked up on the last word I'd thought, he brought out a small knife with a two inch blade and growled,

"What's with the hood, kid?" I was really getting sick of being called "kid". I mean, I know he couldn't know my name and I wasn't about to give it to him, but couldn't he at least vary his insults a little, like "twerp", or just "girl"?

"Take off the hood, kid!" I jumped. I'd let my mind wander. I swear, I am the only person on the face of the earth who can let their mind wander while being mugged. I pulled down the hood.

All the men gasped.

"What?" I asked, irritated. I didn't understand what their problem was.

It suddenly occurred to me not to stick around to find out. Broken Nose's hand had gone limp around his knife. I took a chance.

Ripping the blade from his hand, I turned and ran.

_Later, in the suburbs_

I looked around. I was in a street that was called Justin Crescent according to the street sign, but I thought it had another name, which suited it better: Quaint. There was a patisserie, an old clothing store, an ancient bookstore, and a small convenience store. I walked into the convenience store.

"Hoods off while shopping." The voice came from an old lady at the counter who way giving me the evil eye.

"Sorry," I mumbled, pulling back the hood.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry…" she trailed off.

"Pardon?" I asked, confused.

"I thought you were one of those horrible gang teens who where those to scare people. But you seem to have another reason…"

"Oh, the scar!" It hadn't even occurred to me that the half-foot gash across my right cheek would really shock people that much. I know, I must be the stupidest person in the whole world. But I'm just so… used to it. Like I'm used to being blind in one eye. Which was why I missed the "no hoods" sign.

"Oh, sorry," I apologised to the woman. "I just forget about it sometimes."

The woman gave me a pitying look that would've irritated me if I'd seen it in another teen or an adult, but I let it pass for the old woman, she obviously meant it kindly. I moved into the store and picked up a few supplies, mainly food, but some other stuff, like refills for my first aid kit, and batteries. As I paid the woman at the counter, she continued to talk to me.

"How did you get…that, if you don't mind me asking?"

Um. "Uh, some kids at school… attacked me, after I didn't give them my lunch money." This actually happened to me once, but I'd managed to run away before they could do any serious damage. So I wasn't strictly lying to the woman. Not that I really cared, which worried me. If I didn't feel guilt in lying to people, what else wouldn't I feel guilty about? I didn't know the answer, and it bugged me.

"Oh, dear. I hope your parents sued them."

"Yeah, well," I muttered, half smirking, "It's kinda hard to sue someone when you're six feet under."

The woman looked shocked. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I assured her. "I was really young, I can't remember them at all. You can't miss what you've never had." Not strictly true, but I didn't want the woman to think she'd upset me. I didn't need people on my back about how I feel.

"Well, goodbye dear," the old woman smiled at me. I had to remind myself she was just trying to be nice, after her gang mistake. People talking to me really gets on my nerves.

"Yeah, bye." I left the store. As soon as I was out of sight I started to run, no particular reason, just out of habit.

But maybe it wasn't just habit. It didn't matter, because the voice that spoke made me freeze anyway.

"Ash."

Bruce Wayne. Oh, _crap_.


	3. Help

I could run, I thought, but a strong arm gripped my shoulder

**Author's note: though she has the same name as the comic's Earth Two Huntress, this Helena Wayne is not the same character, as she does not come from Earth two and has never taken up the mantle of Huntress. Also, sorry for the really short update, I'll write more next time.**

I could run, I thought, but a strong arm gripped my shoulder. I still had Broken Nose's knife, but I remembered what Helena Wayne and I had discovered when we were five and playing hide-and-seek at her house. That wasn't a smart course of action either.

So I did the only thing I felt it was safe to do. I turned around and faced the man gripping my shoulder.

"Hello Mr Wayne," I said, grimacing at the expression on his face as he caught sight of the scar. He regained his composure in less than a second and replied,

"Hello Ash."

He was still the same as when I was five, black hair, blue eyes, broad build. I silently wondered what he wanted. Most things he could get just by picking someone up and holding them over a cliff.

"It's surprising to see you so far from Gotham, Mr Wayne." _Play innocent, Ashley. You don't actually know what he's doing here anyway. How hard is it to tell the truth?_ "Are you here on business?"

He scowled, obviously not buying the innocent act.

"It's surprising to see _you_ so far from Metropolis, or it would be, if I didn't know that you ran away from the children's home there four months ago."

Oh, crap. I'd be scared of being sent back there, or maybe to the orphanage in Gotham, which Bruce Wayne had donated to the city and where I'd first met his daughter Helena, if I didn't know that Bruce Wayne was only part of what this person was, and he wasn't going to chase after me if it didn't have something to do with his other half: _Batman_. I shuddered. Maybe he was the good guy, but he still scared me a little.

"What do you want, Mr Wayne?"

"To help you, Ash." The look on his face was almost pitiful, and I hated it. I got an urge to stab him and run.

"Hear me out, Ash. Dealing with the League is better than dealing with Wytch, isn't it?"

I sighed. Let's face it, being disembowelled is probably better than dealing with my sister.

"Okay, what do you want?"

He looked around.

"The other founders need to be there, in which case I'd prefer somewhere a little less open." He actually looked kind of sad for a moment. "Despite all we've done, some people still don't take kindly to the sight of a man with green skin."

"Martian Manhunter," I said involuntarily. Wayne nodded.

"Exactly. J'onn doesn't have the easiest time appearing in suburbia. Besides that, the orphanage has received a call from the man you, ah, spoke to earlier. He informed them of your location, though he left out the part about mugging you. Or trying, at least. The police are on the lookout for you."

"Oh." I said flatly. "So where will you meet?"

"Gotham," he stated bluntly, getting into the black car pulled up to the curb. "You coming?"

Was it just my imagination, or could I hear police sirens? I sighed. I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Fine," I said, opening the back door of the car and getting in. "But if the Flash makes a single crack about this scar you can expect some serious bloodshed."

He laughed. "I want to be there to see that."


	4. League

**Hello, anyone reading this. Muy sorry for the long wait, but the next chapter, at least, should be worth it. (not this one, it's kinda boring, but you have to read it for the rest to make sense) Some ooc-ness, but whatever. Helena Wayne is Bruce's daughter with (you actually thought I'd let you know that easy?). Anyway, enjoy. And please review!**

Bruce explained their situation to me in the car. I had to admit, it was pretty bleak. But I still didn't understand what it had to do with me.

The car drove through the massive iron gates and up to the front of the house. I was about to open the car door when someone opened it for me.

"Good evening, Miss Brontes," I realised it was Alfred. It really had been a while since I'd been here.

I dragged my backpack out of the car and replied, "Hey Alfred." He held out a hand in offer to take my bag for me, but I didn't let him. "Long time, no see."

"Ah yes, I'm afraid Miss Wayne has not used such time wisely. Oh well, perhaps she will make better choices now she has been, what was it, oh yes, grounded for life." He gave me a brief smile. Bruce scowled. It seemed Alfred didn't mind Helena's recent activities – which involved starting an adolescent vigilante group that seriously got on the Justice League's bad side. And getting caught – half as much as her father did.

"For eternity actually," Helena had appeared in the doorway. "He's made it quite clear that even if I die and come back to life I'm still grounded forever and beyond."

Helena Wayne was around fifteen, with dead straight black hair reaching halfway down her back. She looked even more like her father than she did when she was younger, now that her cheeks had hollowed out like Bruce's and she spent a grand total of no time in the sun, which added to her pale complexion. The biggest difference between them was her eyes, a startling bright green. At that moment those eyes were laughing, quite a rare expression. Her father, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to kill someone, which was relatively common.

"Helena," he growled warningly, "Don't interfere."

She sighed theatrically. "Have I ever mentioned you have personality issues, Bruce?"

"Six times, Miss Wayne, and I think your father would prefer it if you didn't call him by his given name," Alfred answered for Mr Wayne. I felt newfound respect for Alfred. He must have a hard job being referee for those two.

Helena rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Al. You better go in, Ash, the Boyscout's waiting in the dining room."

"He's here already?" asked Mr Wayne, surprised. Helena nodded.

"And the rest of them. They weren't very happy to see me, but they were to preoccupied to try and kill me."

"Preoccupied?"

"They had to tie Flash to a chair. He was trying to mess with your computer."

I smirked. I could so see that happening.

Alfred, despite my protests, took my bag and I followed Bruce into the hugest dining room you have ever seen. It was practically the size of my old school's gym. At the head of the (massive) dining room table was a man in a blue suit with a red cape. He was staring at me very sternly, as if it was my fault for keeping them waiting. I glared right back at him.

The guy sitting to his right, who had green skin and creepy eyes, said, "Clark…" in a warning tone, and he stopped giving me the evil eye. I took an immediate liking to Martian Manhunter, and an immediate dislike to the Man of Steel.

Next to J'onn was the bright red figure of the Flash, who was indeed tied to the chair. I wondered idly how they had managed to get ropes that could hold him.

On his right was Hawkgirl, and across from her was Green Lantern. Wonder Woman was sitting on Superman's left and Bruce Wayne went to sit next to her.

Superman cleared his throat. "You must know this isn't regular procedure–"

"You're having issues with my sister, that's been explained," I said irritably. "But what am I supposed to do about it?"

Wonder Woman looked at me funny.

"You're a metahuman, Ashley." I scowled.

"So everyone keeps telling me. But my point is, for one thing, I can't do anything as of yet, and even if I could, what use is it? You guys are mostly metahumans, and she already kicked your butts; the only difference is that she hates me more, so she'll probably kill me."

"Hey!" The Flash protested, "She didn't kick our butts, she had help and they just forced us to retreat is all–"

"Right, Flash, you're just embarrassed because you got beat by a teenage girl _again_." Helena Wayne had snuck in without me, or her father, noticing. "Get over it West, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Wytch is one of the most potent magical beings on this planet. Anyone who laughs at you can try _their_ luck against her."

Flash still scowled, but there wasn't much he could do, being tied to a chair and all.

"Back to the point," said Wonder Woman loudly. I saw Helena scowl at the way her father's eyes followed the Amazon's every move. "J'onn picked up something in Wytch's mind the last time we fought her. She learnt from an enchanted mirror which shows you your greatest weaknesses that whatever you can do, whatever makes you metahuman, that and nothing else, will be her downfall."

I groaned. This was so typical of my life.

"Oh joy. So you're saying I have to fight her?" The Amazon nodded.

"Isn't there anything else? You know, that doesn't involve my getting killed?"

Superman's eyes narrowed. "That's a selfish question. You're willing to let thousands die for your own comfort?"

"My own life," I corrected him, "And it's easy for you to say it's selfish, but you're Kryptonian. Someone can beat you within what would be inches of your life, and you'll come out with barely a scratch. Me? Not so much. I'm more likely to get killed, or at least my neck broken. In fact," I added, thinking, "She'd probably break all my bones, one by one, starting at my fingers and ending with my skull." I looked around at their faces. "So you can see why I'd be kind of reluctant to go up against her, my only chance of survival based on something you found in her totally screwed up mind, involving a magic mirror which tells the future."

J'onn just looked at me. He could probably tell what was going through my head, which was something along the lines of _Oh God please not Wytch don't make me fight Wytch anyone but her ANYONE even freaking Lex Luthor at least he'd kill me relatively quickly…_

Yeah, I'm a wimp. But like Helena had said, you want to laugh at me, you try fighting her first.

"Still, we would like to find out what your ability is, maybe we will be able to imitate it in some way. We have designed a few tests that will help us discover or perhaps trigger your abilities. They should commence tomorrow."

"Is that okay with you, Ashley?" asked Wonder Woman tetchily. I was mentally dividing the original seven into two groups.

J'onn, Flash, and Hawk Girl, I liked.

Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern, I didn't.

I wasn't sure about Batman, Bruce, whatever you want to call him. I could tell he'd be fun to annoy, and he knew what it was like to have human limitations. He'd let Helena live after N.I.G.H.T., which at a guess was more than Superman would do.

They must have decided for me that I was fine with it, because before I knew it the founders of the Justice League, minus Bruce, had been teleported away, presumably back to the Watchtower.

Helena came up behind me.

"Tests? That should be suitably painful."

"So positive. You should really tap into your inner optimist more often."

Helena shrugged.

"Whatever. Just warning you, these "tests" aren't going to be pleasant."

I rolled my eyes. "Please. What in my life is?"


	5. Wally

**Hello! Yay, I have reviewers! Thanks to Soului, Fangirl44, icegoddess52, balletangel19, and silverRaindrops6! To ****icegoddess52, you'll just have to wait and see... To balletangel19, I'm not sure, maybe Diana's lasso? I'm sure they'd try anything rather than face the wrath of Bruce. To silverRaindrops6, Thanks! The tests will be in the next chapter. I was going to do them in this chapter, but realised I hadn't introduced two very important things: Ash's detective side, and her having been mentored by the Flash. Also, to everyone, Helena's eyes are green, not blue. Tiny aspect but I'm sure you can all guess who her mother is now. R&R please! Tell me what you think!  
**

Night time. I sat up, alone, for hours, listening to the sounds of the (enormous) house settling down for the night. Bruce had gone out to do the whole Batman thing, and Helena, unbeknownst (I doubt it) to her father, had gone out to do the whole Twilight thing. Alfred, in the shred of normality that remains in this household, had actually gone to bed. Eventually, when I was convinced Alfred was in Dreamland, I opened my backpack and got out my laptop.

It is, of course, extremely large for a modern day laptop, as the majority of them are hand-held now. But the majority of the structure is taken up by the complex lock and security system. I won't go into details, but basically, if you're not me, there is absolutely no way to get into it without destroying the computer. The initial challenge is actually opening the thing.

I placed my hand on the gel-print scanner. It read my print, my pulse, and actually checked my DNA. Then it did an iris-scan. Then I told it to open, so it could do the voice recognition scan and check the code I gave, which I'm not telling you.

_Then_ it opened. And then I typed in my password, which is no simple codeword, by the way. And, finally, I opened the file I was looking for: relationships and allegiances.

After I discovered that Bruce Wayne was Batman when I was five, and later that Wally West was secretly the Flash, I developed an interest in superhero affairs. A serious interest. In about four months I'd discovered the secret identities of over a dozen Leaguers. Then I realised that while I was not the only person interested in this area, but I was by far the best. Too smart for my own good, perhaps. But still. Maybe I'd need the information someday. Mainly it was thrill seeking and my goddamned curiosity, but I slowly became far too good at the whole detective thing to back away. And it took my mind off things like imminent pain and possible death at the hands of the Coven.

Yes, discovering anything and everything I can about the superhero community is my weekend hobby.

Beats stamp collecting any day.

* * *

I'd only been typing for about five minutes (updating my study of Diana and Bruce's relationship, which always cracks me up) when I felt a slight breeze and heard a casual voice say, "You know, knowing that much is only going to get you into a lot of trouble if anyone finds out."

Closed the laptop, placing my hand on the gel scanner to lock it properly.

"Hello Wally," I said with a sigh, trying to hide the fact I was actually glad to see him. Having known the guy since I was six, he was something of a father figure to me. Actually, more of a goofball older brother figure, really.

He was perched on top of the chair, in civilian clothes.

"I'm serious Ash; if Supes found out how much you know–"

"Oh please. He's not that bright. I mean, he disguises himself with a pair of glasses, and expects people to fall for it." I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. Wally grinned.

"You sound like Bruce."

"Please God no," I retorted, imagining the cranky billionaire lecturing the Man of Steel about disguise. I shuddered. "I would so hate to be Helena."

"Nah, I think the whole certified genius thing gives her an upper hand." He ran a hand through his messy red hair. "Why'd you run away from Metropolis?" he finally asked. I looked out the window absently. Eventually, I replied.

"Wytch attacked me. Alone. Told me I was metahuman." I saw Wally's eyes widen slightly.

"She gave you that scar?" he said, indicating the white dead flesh on my face. I nodded, and then raised my head so he could see my neck.

"And this one." The speedster inhaled softly. I could see the worry and anger chase each other across his face, but he forced himself to process it all.

"She attacked you by herself. That's new." I nodded. "And she hurt you physically, with a non-magical weapon, also new." Another affirmative for the flashmeister. Like me, Wally was smarter than he looked. Or maybe I learnt it from him. Probably the second option.

"So," he concluded, "Something is up with Wytch. Could be good, could be bad." I nodded, and thought it through.

"She's sort of regarding me as an equal, or at least a threat," I said idly, thinking. "The non-magical thing I just don't get though. She could still use magic, I could tell, but she didn't. It doesn't make any sense." _Of course it makes sense, Ash. You're just too scared and stubborn to admit it._

But no matter how I strained myself, I couldn't figure it out. I sighed in defeat, and a few minutes later Wally came to the same conclusion.

"This sucks," he groaned.

"No duh," I added, then asked, "So what are you doing hanging around the Wayne household?"

"Checking up on you," he replied, then imitated my voice. "_Duh_."

"I'm fine." Wally grinned at my bluntness.

"And I'm not leaving."

"Fine," I replied, irritated. I grabbed my backpack, shoving my laptop in and zipping it up. "Stay then," I added, trying to seem angry and not touched at his brotherly concern, heading towards the door. Naturally, he zipped in front of me before I could grab the door handle.

"Hey, where do you think your going?" he said, a little more Justice League-y than before. "Your supposed to stay here, remember? So Katarina doesn't kill you and all."

I rolled my eyes. Wally, being the Mr Empathy of the hero biz, often called Wytch by her real name. He also had a bit of Mr Paranoid in him. "I'm just going down to the cemetery."

Wally's face fell slightly, but he remained adamant. "I'm coming with you," he said firmly. I rolled my eyes, but said nothing.

* * *

Black clothed Twilight crouched on the roof of Wayne Manor. Her black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. Slight dark grey accents and a navy blue four-pointed-star on her front meant her costume bore great resemblance to Nightwing's. Dick didn't mind: in fact, he had played a big part in training the young heroine and was proud of both her crime-fighting and Bruce-baiting skills. Oracle, a.k.a. Barbara Gordon, was less proud of her part in the training of Twilight, and had gone to great lengths to cover it up. Still, their influence, and her father's, was still prominent in her fighting technique.

"Weird time of night to be going out for a walk," commented her companion, who also wore black, but unlike hers, his suit had blood red accents. "Where're they going?"

"Cemetery. Her mum's buried there." The boy un-tensed slightly, but was nowhere near relaxed. Twilight raised an eyebrow he couldn't see. "Suspicious? Trust me, her going there is nothing new. She visits at least once a week whenever she's in Gotham. Sometimes she cries. Other's she just sits there looking miserable for a while, then moves on to the next grave."

The teenager turned his head sharply toward his companion. "The next grave?' he inquired. Twilight nodded.

"She visits four. Her mum; Martha and Thomas Wayne; and Ace of the first Royal Flush Gang. In that order, in case you were wondering."

"Why does she visit your grandparents' graves? Doesn't that strike you as a little weird?"

Twilight shrugged. "She's been doing it since she was a little kid. Ash's an atheist, so she needs non-religious rituals to fill in the gap," Twilight pointed out. "Basic human psychology. The world seems very big and very scary to most people, and they need things to cling to, be it complex stuff like religion, or just something simple like visiting certain graves. You might find that a bit hard to understand, but that's because you don't get the same feelings we do."

The boy seemed offended. "I'm half human. I was born here, raised here. I've never even seen a picture of Krypton."

"A large part of psychology is genetics. Even though your conscious is almost purely human, at an instinctual level, your kryptonian side is by far dominant over the human one."

The boy turned away, not liking this topic. A certified genius like Twilight could see right through all his human layers right to the heart of the matter: he was different. And he didn't understand things most people knew naturally. He changed the topic back.

"Still. I can understand your grandparents, they were highly influential people. But why Ace? She was a Cadmus project, right? Before the Joker showed up, I mean."

"Ace got cheated out of her childhood. Her life."

"Yes. And?"

"Have you ever heard of the Fifty-Two?" Twilight asked suddenly.

"Um…" He paused, thinking back. "That was a Joker thing, right? He got a bunch of other supervillains to help him kill Batman, as long as he got rid of their enemies beforehand. The victims were the Fifty-Two."

"That's right. Accept of course he didn't succeed."

"Because Batman and Nightwing swung in to save the day last minute."

"No," his comrade corrected. "They came to late, but the Fifty Two were saved already. One of them was a metahuman."

"So?" The half-Kryptonian was getting sick of puzzles. Helena had a way of making people feel slow. "Get on with it."

"The Joker had enlisted the Coven. Ash was one of the Fifty-Two."

And with that, Twilight leapt on her hoverboard** (1)** and kicked off into the air.

"You coming, Metropolis?" she called. He nodded and flollowed her, musing. Ashley Brontes just got a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Four roses. One white, two red, and one black. I knew exactly where to find them in Wayne Manor's extensive gardens. I walked down the path to the graveyard, trying to ignore Wally's worried ranting.

"I don't think we should be out this late, you know. It is Gotham and all. They could try to mug you or something and-then-I'd-havet-to-fight-them-and-that'dcomprimisemysecretidentityandputyouindangerandBrucewillkillusboth!" He kept saying, getting faster and faster until the only phrase I understood was something along the lines of "We're all gonna die!"

"Gotham jitters? It's not that bad, you know. And this is private property. The real nut jobs hang around the Narrows and the inner city, some small timers wander around the suburbs. But no-one comes down here, criminal or not."

"Istilldon'tlikethis," Wally said unnecessarily.

"We'll be fine. You're not the only one who can fight, you know," I said pointedly. Looking briefly up at the top of Wayne Manor, I smiled and muttered to myself, "Besides, I think we have someone looking out for us."

* * *

**(1): You know the hoverboard thing Batwoman rides on in The Mystery of The Batwoman? It looks like that, except black.**

**Well, that's the chapter. I wanted to introduce Helena's alter ego and the mysterious half-kryptonian she hangs out with. I'm sorry it's a short update, but I have chapter six almost finished, so I'll upload that soon. Finally and most importantly, PLEASE REVIEW!****  
**


	6. Tests

_**Hello! Finally, this chapter's done! It got so big I had to divide it into two chapters, this one and the next (which will be uploaded soon). I wrote across a relatively long period of time, so sorry if it seems a little disjointed. As always, please review! If you love it, review. If you hate it, review. If you have no idea what's going on, and need an explanation, REVIEW! Thanks to my reviewers for chapter five, SilverRaindrops6 and Hephaestus01, and anyone else who has reviewed. Your thoughts are what keep me writing!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Helena Wayne, Ash Brontes, N.I.G.H.T., Wytch and The Coven. Everything else is owned by... someone. Not me. They know who they are.**_

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I sat in front of the unmarked tombstone, looking over the strange designs engraved in it that I heard they'd found in a notebook in her pocket. They were unlike anything I'd ever seen before, but they seem to hold meaning just beyond my reach. But despite the fact they frustrated me to no end, they bizarre and obviously ancient patterns also made me feel calmer than usual. Which is very confusing and slightly self-contradictory. But also true.

Eventually, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Um, I hate to interrupt your brooding, but I think someone's watching us," Wally whispered in my ear. "Do you think they're a threat?"

"No," I replied, dropping the white rose on the gravestone. "I don't."

Honestly, I think Wally was just looking for a reason to leave. I turned around, and said pointedly, "I never asked you to come here, remember. You can leave as soon as you want."

Wally folded his arms and sort of pouted at my pointing out his discomfort. "Nuh uh. I am not leaving you down here in the middle of the night."

"I'm not helpless."

"No, but you are like a little sister to me and I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"That is so clichéd."

"So? It's true."

"Please tell me your not going to go all protective on me when I get a boyfriend. If I live long enough to get a boyfriend."

"Depends on the boy. For example, if you liked Supes' step-son, I'd run him to the other side of the world."

I laughed. "Don't worry, I've met Tynan Lane, and I don't think we'll be getting together any time soon."

Wally looked curious. "You've met him? When?"

"At the short time I attended Metropolis High. I had at least half my classes with the guy," I replied, reminiscing. "He is such an ass," I added, mentally flipping through my memories of him. He was socially reclusive, but in a stuck up, popular sort of way. He tended to see himself as a rebel, and girls loved it. He made fun of people with a lower social status for his own amusement. He fought with his mum and never thought how lucky he was to have one. Practically every girl in the school had a crush on him at one point in time.

Except me. I found the guy utterly repulsive.

He reminded me of Bruce, really. Or, to be more accurate, Bruce's façade for the gossip magazines. The Bruce Wayne the public knew was just a larger version of Tynan Lane. Except I didn't know Tynan to drink or actually sleep with any of the girls he dated, and he wasn't that rich. But still, the similarity was there.

"Well that's a weight off my mind," said Wally jokingly. "I came to a similar conclusion when I met him the last time I visited Clark and Lois. What a jerk."

"Why did you think I would like him if he was a jerk?" I asked, continuing the joke.

"Some girls like jerks. I don't know why, but they do."

"I'm not some girls. I'm me, and I don't like people for irrational reasons."

"Weren't you best friends with Helena when you were younger?"

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Well, if someone is friends with someone who beats them up and insults them all the time, that's pretty irrational, isn't it?

"Just because she insults and hurts people now, doesn't mean she did when she was five."

"And did she?"

"No."

"Oh." Wally looked a bit crestfallen. He obviously didn't have a very high opinion of Helena. Or she didn't have a very high opinion of him. I wouldn't put it past her to be mean to him just because she didn't view him as an intellectual equal. She did that a lot.

We'd been talking as we walked and I'd already dropped two roses on Martha and Thomas Wayne's graves. We had arrived at Ace's. Even Wally went quiet as I regarded the ace-of-spades-shaped tombstone. Dropping the last rose lightly in front of it, I turned away.

"It's getting late," I mumbled.

"Why thankyou Captain Obvious. Hate to break it to you, but it was getting late like four hours ago."

"Captain Obvious? Is this another of your ridiculous "Captain" villains?"

"They're not ridiculous," Wally protested, insulted on his adversaries' behalf.

"Please. Captain Boomerang's never even been to Australia."

"He has to!"

"Has not."

"Has to."

"Has not."

"Has to."

"Has not. He's never been anywhere. He's never even had a passport."

And with the conversation continuing along this thread, we made our way back to the house.

* * *

The Next Morning

_Test no. 1_

One word. OW!

Bruce was testing my strength and reflexes in the training simulator in the Batcave, and so far, I was failing. Trying desperately to block the robot's constant attacks, I forced myself to calm down, spinning away into the corner to get a second to think. I needed to find a weak spot. The robot was model 485 delta, and man it was fast. It had a slightly weaker spot on the front of its knees, but it was designed to withstand being run over by a tank. I was a fourteen-year-old kid with nothing but my hands to fight with. Guess who'll win this round.

Anyway, I had no way to beat this stupid thing without backup from the US military, so I decided to call it quits. And show off a little.

"Program override nine sigma cobalt," I managed to yell while blocking the robot's punch. Mere seconds later it straightened, and walked mechanically back to the middle of the room, and descended into the floor. I quickly walked through the simulator door and straight up to an unmasked Batman. Grabbing him by the collar, I growled, "I do not have super strength or super speed and I am never, ever fighting that thing again. Understand?"

Bruce was surprisingly calm. He gently removed my hands from his collar and indicated me to sit down. I took the seat where there was one chair between us. He indicated my results.

"Obviously nothing superhuman, but you did quite well for a person your age and size. Of course Helena gave you a few tips on fighting when you were younger, but that was very basic stuff. Any other training I should know about?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow. Loads of Gotham gossip magazines call those eyes undeniable, and Wally had disclosed to me that most Leaguers felt the same way about when he glared at them. But they seemed very deniable to me.

"None of your business." He glared at me, but it didn't work. I glared right back at him. I wondered idly if he'd pull the whole "the league is being very nice" act, trying to make me feel guilty, but he didn't. Instead he turned away, almost as if he was guilty himself. Possibly another tactic. I wasn't falling for it. "Can I go now?"

"No," he retorted, Batman again. "You are going to tell me where you learnt to fight."

"Martial art classes."

"From who?"

"What gives you a right to know?"

"It wasn't Wally, that much is clear. So someone else decided to teach you how to defend yourself. What I want to know is who and why?"

"Why don't you tell me? You're the detective, not me."

He smirked a little at that. "Ash, you and I both know that isn't true. Now tell me who trained you or I'll find out the hard way."

"Which is?"

"I throw you back in there with the robot and change the override code."

I considered for a few seconds, then asked, "Do you have a phone?" He handed me a mobile. I switched to the contacts page. Hey, he even had her on speed dial. I pressed call and handed the phone back to Bruce.

"See if she wants to talk to you." Bruce looked at me suspiciously but held the phone up to his ear. He put it on speaker so the computer could record the voice patterns. After three rings, someone picked up.

"Bruce? Why are you calling? Is something wrong?"

The look on Bruce Wayne's face just then was not worth his entire fortune. Utterly priceless.

"Barbara?"

And with that, I quickly darted out of the cave, before either of them could kill me.

* * *

_Test no. 2_

"I can't fly."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, actually, I do."

* * *

_Test no. 3_

"Are you immune to magic?"

"No."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes. Very."

The JL had decided to take a less physical role in the tests for a while, and were quizzing me about previous experiences, strengths and weaknesses, et cetera. Well, actually, Wonder Woman was quizzing me, as no one else wanted to do it. She didn't want to either, from what I could tell, but she picked the shortest straw (actually, Flash picked it, but he switched with Wonder Woman, before anyone noticed. This left me feeling very unwanted, but he probably just didn't like getting stuck with the job no-one wanted. After all, he was just doing what they expected him to do.

"Okay then," continued Diana, as she had told me to call her, in an attempt to get me to be more co-operative. "Have you ever been involved in an accident or been badly hurt, but healed much faster than was really probable?" she continued, reading off the list of questions she and her colleagues had drawn up.

"Yes. Several times."

"How many?"

"I can't remember. A lot."

"And this didn't strike you as at all unusual?"

"I figured I couldn't heal myself or anything, because I have loads of scars and have had broken bones and stuff. And, of course, I haven't healed my blind eye."

"Blind eye?" she asked curiously. I raised my hand and pointed to my left eye.

"That one."

She examined it carefully, no doubt noting the thin, dead straight scar that went at least three quarters diagonally across my eyeball.

"How did that happen?"

"Piece of broken glass. Went clean through my eyelid," I said briefly, hoping she wouldn't ask for more details. Unfortunately, my injury seemed to have piqued her interest.

"When? How?"

"I was three," I replied, deadpan. I refused any answer to her second question.

"And?"

"And what?" Oh, you play this little game, but you're only postponing the inevitable, I told myself.

"How did it happen?"

"Someone smashed my head into an aquarium and one of the splinters of glass went through my eyelid," I replied, trying not to let the pain show on my face.

"When you were three?" Diana looked half-way between incredulous and appalled. "Who would do such a thing?"

I turned away and looked out the window. Who indeed? I tried not to choke as I said the words.

"Our first encounter with The Coven."

Wonder Woman breathed out softly. "I'm sorry I made you remember… Wait. 'Our' first encounter?"

I turned to face her. "Me and… Wytch. The Coven are a sort of cult of magicians. They preached the arrival of a powerful sorceress, so powerful she could even stand up to the gods," I looked her straight in the eye. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of them. They date back to at least as far back as the Amazons."

"So Wytch wasn't their founder," Diana muttered, "Just the one they were waiting for."

I nodded. "The day I was blinded was the day they came and took her."

"Why did she go with them? Isn't the old saying blood is thicker than water?"

I sighed. "Yeah, well, she was three and we're not even the same species. I guess magic's thicker than blood. I mean, it's pretty hard to say no to a whole bunch of people who are basically worshipping you."

She looked at me sadly. "Do you think she should be forgiven?"

I shook my head. "No. But some days I wish I could."

* * *

_Test no. 4_

I glared back at Bruce as he got out the sterilised needle.

"Absolutely no way," I stated before he could open his mouth.

"Barbara told me about your aversion to sharp, pointy objects," Bruce said unfeelingly. "You need to get over it."

"Oh, thanks. That really fills me with confidence," I retorted sarcastically.

"I meant you need to trust people," he amended, grabbing me firmly by the shoulder and steering me into the sterilised room from where I stood in the doorway. I sighed and sat on the white covered bed. "Even," Bats continued, "if they are holding sharp, pointy objects."

"Even if that's true, why should you be someone I trust?"

"Do I have a motive to kill you?"

"Um, I'm annoying?" Bruce smirked.

"Yes, you are. But if I killed everyone who ever annoyed me I'd be a mass murderer."

"There'd be no-one left to convict you though."

"Don't give me a motive." He warned me, brandishing the needle. I cringed and shrank away slightly. "Oh please. Someone who's not scared of Superman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman or Batman is terrified of a little prick with a needle?"

"You sadistic old bat."

"You need to un-tense or this will hurt."

"It's a needle. It's going to hurt anyway."

"You know what I meant," he growled, giving me what Wally calls the patented makes-criminals-wet-their-pants-and-superheroes-shake-in-their-spandex ultimate Bat-GlareTM.

I glared right back at him.

After at least a full minute I un-tensed my arm.

I swear he purposely took a long time drawing out the blood into the syringe. I took out my frustration by whining. "Why do you need so much? The last time I had my blood tested they only needed two tubes full." It was true, and he was now extracting the fourth tube of dark red liquid from the blood vessel in the inside of my elbow.

"I'm not looking for whether you have calcium deficiency," he said dismissively. "We need to do extensive tests, seeing as you have been so uncooperative in the other tests."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, so it's my fault now…"

"Done," he said, smirking. He taped a cotton bud to my inner elbow as my eyes drifted to the table with the tubes on it.

"Five tubes?" I asked incredulously. "How many bloody tests are you going to do?"

"Mind your language," he berated absently.

"Well, with that much blood, it's bound to be bloody, isn't it?" This would have come across as a very bad joke, if I hadn't sounded so pissed off.

"You seem fine to me."

Huffing, I got up and headed toward the door, muttering something about evil bat bedside manner. Of course, Bats simply turned back to his computer and started typing, bringing up a DNA file, the familiar double helix decorating half the screen. I, of course, peered through the hinges of the door I'd half closed behind me, trying to see what he was doing.

"Your stealth skills leave much to be desired, Ash."

"Damn you."

* * *

_Test no. 5_

The Batcave training room

"Alright," Superman said loudly and slowly, as if I was deaf. "This is an exercise to see how you react in a real-life combat situation. Batman has explained you have some experience in martial arts, but nothing much. So you'll face a human opponent around the same weight and height as you, but with much more experience and training."

I had sensors and the like stuck all over my skin. Stupid League. Stupid meta-humaness. Stupid Batman. Stupid Batcave. Stupid House. Stupid City. Stupid world.

And finally, and most relevant, Stupid genius friend from preschool.

* * *

**_Please Review!_**


	7. Fighting

"Why Helena

**This is a really short update, and I'm very sorry! I'll write more next time! I've been busy converting a friend of mine, who is a major marvel fan, to Justice League. But I have finally succeeded! Yay me! Now if only she'd stop using my name on her fan fiction characters…**

**Just a note about various Bat clan members, as I'm not familiar with any Cassandra Cain stories, I'm afraid I'll have to leave her out of this fan fic, as I don't know how to portray her character. Barbara, for purposes of this storyline, is Oracle, but is not paraplegic. I know, I know, I can't have my cake and eat it too, but in Batman Beyond she's not paraplegic, and I like her as Oracle. It separates her from Bruce a bit, and makes her seem less like a sidekick. Dick Grayson is Nightwing, and even though I think the Robin in Teen Titans is meant to be Dick, in this fic he'll be Tim (Drake) because there can't be two Robins at the same time and the Titans feature in this fic (And we can't leave Timmy out, now can we? :P )**

**This chapter is not exactly my best piece of writing, as I totally suck at writing fight scenes and I was pretty tired when I wrote the rest. But I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

"Why Helena? I thought you hated each other," I asked Superman, as Helena picked out various Batarangs and throwing stars, skimming her bright green eyes across the array of weapons in Batman's explosive treasure chest.

"Hatred is not the issue. Helena is the only person your basic height and build with enough combat experience to control the fight and make sure neither of you get hurt."

_Oh, yeah. Totally. Like you're so concerned about either of our well beings_. But still, I nodded and opened my backpack. Superman gave me a weird look.

"What's in there?" he asked curiously. I raised an eyebrow. As far as I knew, my backpack wasn't made of lead.

"Um, forgive me if I'm wrong, but don't you have x-ray vision?"

He nodded. "Your point?"

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind," I replied, dragging out my long black coat. Supes gave me an even weirder look. It clearly read, _You really are insane, aren't you?_ It glared at him until he turned away. Yay me! I beat Superman in a staring contest! I was filled with juvenile joy until I remembered I was about to be beaten to a pulp by possibly the best combat trained teenager in the country, in front of the seven most respected superheroes in the world. I'd never be able to snicker at their actions ever again. This was going to take all the fun out of reading the newspaper.

Pulling my coat on over my black "Chaser's War On Everything" T-shirt (some Australian TV show. Wally's Australian friend, who has never met Captain Boomerang, by the way, sent it to him for Christmas, but Wally isn't overly fond of black clothes, and it was kind of small for him, so he gave it to me). I was wearing blue jeans that had been washed for the first time in months the night before. I know this sounds weird and kind of gross, but the cleanliness was actually quite unnerving. I was really quite scared Alfred would replace my nearly-falling-apart clothes with new ones (I'm not just paranoid! He's done it before!) while I was down here being pummelled.

Of course, I really should've been worrying about the whole being used as a human punching bag thing. But I'm just weird like that.

"Ready?" Helena asked, grinning evilly.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were enjoying this."

"'If you didn't know better'?"

"You're you. You don't enjoy anything."

"That's pathetic, Ash."

"Takes one to know one."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does not!"

"Does too!"

_Glare_.

_Glare._

"Um," said John, interrupting our glaring contest (I was winning). "…Go?"

Helena quickly took a swipe at my jaw, but I dodged, getting away from her as quickly as I could. She took a second to get out a Batarang, which I took to disappear into the crevices of the Batcave's sparring area.

That's what I like about caves. There's dozens of places to hide in them.

Still, I couldn't exactly stay in the same place forever, or even for a minute. Helena's a certified genius for heaven's sake: she's hardly going to fall for the odd disappearing trick.

Sure enough, a small smoke bomb was thrown near my hiding spot. And she called me low. Here's a little known fact for you: I'm asthmatic. And Supes said she _wasn't_ going to kill me.

Luckily, I had my ever-useful coat on and removed a "borrowed" Batarang from my right pocket. I took a precious second to think about it. If I threw it at just _this_ angle, it would hit the opposite wall perfectly. So I did.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep Beep Beep BeepBeepBeepBeepBeep…

A sudden explosion threw Helena into the wall, and cleared the air of smoke, by which time I was climbing further up into the tunnels in the Batcave ceiling. Of course she wasn't fooled by that. One of her own explosive Batarangs followed suit and the rock collapsed beneath me.

My last thought was, _Oh, crap…_

"Ash!" Bruce yelled at the sight of the girl dropping from the ceiling.

Shayera caught Ash's falling body in midair, using her wings to protect them both from the debris. Lantern caught the rocks with his ring, and gently placed them to one side, a term you don't often get to use in the context of giant boulders.

Bruce checked the sensors, and despite the fact he though Shayera had caught the girl before anything had hit her, her vitals were very weak. Shayera found Ash herself made no reaction to her questions, and seemed to be completely out cold.

Helena suddenly gasped in shock and J'onn shouted, "Shayera! Your mace! Get it away from her!" The Thanagarian obediently threw her mace as far away as she could. Bruce turned to the monitors. Slowly, but surely, Ash' vitals returned to normal.

Bruce nearly collapsed in relief. If anything had happened to her…

Shayera, who also looked relieved, placed Ash's unconscious form on the medical table, asked hesitantly, "Why was my mace hurting her?"

To their surprise, it was not J'onn who replied, but Helena. "At a base level, Ash's entire being is founded on magic. Your mace is Nth metal, which disrupts magic, and therefore hurts her. A lot. It's deadly to her in large amounts." Looking around, she saw some slightly confused expressions, so she verified, "Nth metal is Ash's kryptonite."

After a slight pause, Wally broke the silence with, "…Aaaaaand you didn't tell us this before because…?"

Helena scowled at him, and then admitted, "I didn't realise."

Superman raised an eyebrow. "You _didn't realise_?"

"Well, I–"

Helena's angry response was cut of by a loud ripping sound. But not like someone's pants ripping. More like someone ripping a hole in the space-time continuum.

Which, of course, was exactly what was happening.

The sound of a hole being ripped in space is not pleasant, but neither are its implications. So when the first sound I heard when I regained consciousness was just that, I was suitably freaked.

And when you add in the fact the second thing I heard was a cold voice say, "Give me the girl, and no-one gets hurt…yet…" I wasn't exactly jumping for joy.

I will admit, when the third thing I heard was Flash say, "Which girl? There's more than one in this room, you idiot," I did feel a little better.

But not much.

"I think you all know which I want. Now, hand over the girl called Ashley, and I may decide not to forcibly turn you all inside out."

Just a little intro here, this was definitely the voice of Warren (I think it's actually spelt "Waehrahn", but he's an ahole, so he doesn't deserve to have his name spelt correctly), who's over a million years old and a powerful sorcerer. The Coven, much like the Amazons, don't age, so he basically resembles a guy in his early twenties. A very, very evil guy in his early twenties.

"I don't think we really need to say this, but, in case you're as retarded as you seem, 'No fucking way'."

That was Helena. She has this thing against magic people.

Strength was flooding back into me, but it really didn't matter. Warren could take down the whole Justice League if he wanted, but he's restrained by his belief, quite literally. If he drifts from the Coven's strict code, he'll lose his immortality and wind up a pile of bones.

Lucky for him, torture, blackmail, and global domination are all part of the Coven way of life.

I opened my eyes slightly, and saw basically a huge tear in the air behind a relatively short form that was definitely Warren. He might've looked kind of nerdy, if he hadn't had a mouth full of pointed teeth and murder in his eyes. And (literally, I might add) dried blood on his hands.

"If you don't hand her over, I will simply take her."

"Then why haven't you? 'Cause we aren't giving her over."

I knew why. He didn't want to take any chances. If I was a metahuman, it might interfere with his magic. But he wouldn't stay wary forever.

Suddenly, I heard something land next to me on the cold metal table, near my right ear. Turning ever so slightly, I opened one eye a crack to see what it was. My hair, frustratingly, was hanging in the way.

I felt invisible hands closing around my arms and legs and dragging me towards the edge of the table, a sure sign Warren had gotten over his jitters. Just before the spell reached my hands I grabbed the object. I opened my eyes fully and saw what it was.

A lighter.


	8. Fire

**Thank you to all reviewers! This chapter was written kind of hurriedly, so it probably won't be all that good. Also, Ash is going through stuff so she won't be her wonderfully sarcastic self in this chapter. Next chapter will have much sarcasm, cynicism and general Ash-ness. Still, I hope you enjoy this one, and as always, Please Review!**

* * *

Right at that moment, I didn't really see what good a lighter was really going to do me. I couldn't actually remember ever using one. But still, it's not exactly very advanced technology, so I did the only thing I could really do it the circumstances: I lit it.

The common idea is that we have five senses. Scientifically speaking, we have nine. So I'll say it felt like I had suddenly gained a tenth sense, because even though it wasn't close enough for me to feel its heat, and my eyes had closed under the influence of Warren's stupid spell, I was still acutely aware of the flame's presence. Reaching out with my mind (yes, my mind, I have one, you have one, let's not quarrel about mine's quality), I took the flame from its source on the lighter. My brow furrowed in concentration. Somehow, the sensation felt familiar. I found I associated it with maniacal laughter dissolving into screams of pain. What a pleasant thought. I struggled against the memory, which grew stronger and more vivid as I recalled where it was from. The Fifty-Two. I'm not sure how old I was at the time, but before this all I remembered was being captured in the middle of the night, waking up in a storage shed, and then… nothing.

Except it wasn't nothing any more.

I remembered the masked figures; clown masks, drawn into grotesque smiles. I remembered the cages, precisely fifty-two cages, and in every one a different person: children, adolescents, women sobbing, men slumped in resignation, babies even; anyone who these villains perceived had done them wrong. I remembered Kat disappearing into Wytch, that cold sneer growing on her still childlike features. I remembered Warren leading her away. I remembered turning and finding another clown figure standing in my path: but this one wore no mask. His bleached white skin, sewage green hair and maniacal grin. Several of his teeth were chipped and one seemed to be missing completely. The Joker.

I remembered the tattoo artist, with his clown mask and his needle. I remembered the awful clown in charge of it all pulling out a half pack of cards and telling me to pick one. I remembered it being the Ace of Hearts.

I remembered being strapped to the chair so I wouldn't struggle, as the man with the needle uncaringly drove it into my skin. I remembered the crazed laughter of the white-faced man at my pointless struggle. I remembered asking what he wanted.

"What I want? You're not here because I want you to be, it's just a favour I'm doing for the people who are going to give me what I truly want."

"Which is?" He laughed.

"Why, I just want to watch the pretty lights as the world burns. Is that too much to ask?"

I remembered feeling real hatred for the first time in my life.

I was tossed into a rusty cage, which had an Ace of Hearts symbol carved into the floor. One side of my cage was against the wall, the other attached to another cage. Two of Hearts. The figure in that cage was just a girl, who looked about fifteen. She was bleeding on the left side of her face.

"Hey kid, are you okay?"

Nod.

"What's your name?"

"A-Ash," I had stuttered.

The girl smiled through the blood and tears in her eyes. "I'm Millie."

I remembered how she had, despite her own fear, comforted me the whole time, just because I was younger. I remembered trying to see into the cage on the other side of hers, and seeing only a body slumped on the floor. Millie assured me he was just sleeping.

You could see in her eyes that he was dead.

Hours later, the Joker and one of his thugs came to take Millie away.

She tried to reason with the Joker. He just laughed.

The thug got out a cigarette, pulling a box of matches from his pocket to light it.

The smell of smoke. An explosion. Manic laughter dissolving into wailing as the scent of burnt flesh drifted through the cage bars.

I ripped open my eyes.

I was less than five metres from Warren, who was standing there with a sneer on his face. The lighter was still in my hand.

Fire circled my wrists as the flames tore his spell to shreds.

"You," I whispered furiously, "It's all because of you."

And, to make a long story short, I blasted him to kingdom come.

* * *

Alfred knocked twice on the door. When there was no reply, he entered.

"I trust our young guest will recover, Master Bruce?" he asked. The black haired man merely nodded.

He had been sitting on the window seat in her room for three hours, ever since she had attacked their unwelcome visitor and subsequently passed out. She was lying unconscious in her bed, but J'onn had examined her and confirmed that she was fine, but had exhausted herself with this sudden extreme use of her powers. Helena and Clark were fighting downstairs, in the living room, so Alfred had come upstairs to give Bruce some afternoon tea.

After a minute or so of silence, the butler said, "When will you tell her?"

Without turning to look at his surrogate father, Bruce replied, "Soon. She deserves to know who her mother was."

"And her father?"

"Not now. Perhaps, someday. But not until she is ready."

"And when do you think that day will come, Master Bruce?"

The billionaire-come-hero turned and looked his butler straight in the eyes.

"I don't know, Alfred. But when she's ready, I will tell her."

Alfred began to say something else, when they heard a crash from downstairs.

"Meanwhile," said the Englishman, "We have another problem on our hands."

Bruce nodded, and the pair went downstairs to try and stop Superman killing Helena.

Or vice versa.

* * *

When I woke up, it was night, and I was in my bed in the guest room at Wayne Manor. I was still in my clothes, but my black coat had been taken off and was hanging in the wardrobe. And even though I really wanted to go check if any of its many sharp and dangerous objects had been removed, I really, really didn't want to get out of bed.

The fact my head was threatening to explode didn't help.

I had always known I had been one of the Fifty-Two, I just didn't remember anything about it. Now that mercifully blank space in my memory was filled with memories more vivid than I'd ever had before in my life. I felt sick when I thought of them. I self-consciously rubbed the tattoo on the inside of my right forearm_. It's okay now_, I told myself sternly. _That was ages ago. You're fine now._

Suddenly I heard a crash from upstairs. I dragged myself out of bed and headed towards the Wardrobe where I could see my coat hanging.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, a stinging sensation in my neck, and then everything went black.

* * *

"Smart one, dumb one," came Twilight's cutting voice through the darkness of the attic. The vigilante known only as Ghost rolled his eyes.

"You can give me a stealth lesson later, _Batgirl_. Right now I have a kryptonite shard in my back, and I can assure you, I don't care if I wake your whole house up as long as I get it out before it kills me."

The cold, factual tone of Ghost's voice told Helena he was in extreme pain. Wordlessly, she got out a pair of tweezers and examined his back. The piece of kryptonite was hard to miss, glowing a vivid green against his black uniform.

"Don't move," she warned. The boy froze, totally immobile. Helena knew from training with him that he could hold his breath for just under six hours. Gently, she pulled out the shard of glowing crystal out of its resting place in between his ribs. She then got out a lead lined box and placed the piece of kryptonite inside, quickly closing the lid.

"Feel anything more in there?" she asked the earthborn Kryptonian.

"Some dust and grains," he admitted. She got out a special swab from her specialised first aid kit and wiped the inside of the puncture wound. Once all traces of Kryptonite were removed, she stepped back from her teammate.

"Now tell me how you got a two inch shard of Kryptonite stuck in your back."

"Wait a sec," the boy mumbled, leaning against the wall. After a minute or so, he experimentally floated into the air, and then, satisfied that his powers were back in full strength, he answered her question. "It was that nut-job psychic guy. He followed me all the way from Metropolis, and of course he fit right in with the local crazies."

Helena nodded. David Figaro was an ex-TV psychic and crackpot alien conspiracy theorist. He thought anything that didn't come from Earth was evil and was one of the only villains who regularly targeted N.I.G.H.T. members. He had developed an obsession with Kryptonians and was one of the few who knew Ghost was one. In retaliation to Ghost stopping one of his schemes to get Shayera Hol extradited from the planet, he had stolen a large amount of kryptonite from Wayne Industries and was obviously plotting revenge. Helena decided there and then to join Black Arrow on her hunt for his kryptonite stash.

"Any notable team ups?"

"He'd brainwashed a couple of Penguin's bird girls, but no-one serious. Speaking of which, how's the kid?"

"Unconscious. Your grand entrance woke her up, so I had to use a tranquilliser."

"Had to?" Despite the mask he wore, Twilight could tell he was rolling his eyes. "If there's one thing I can say for you, Helen, you never do things in halves."

Helena punched him near his quickly healing wound. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Patronising me. Let's not forget who's the older one here. And don't call me Helen."

Rubbing his back awkwardly where she had punched it, Ghost replied, "You're only older by a week or so. It doesn't give you an excuse to beat me up while I'm hurt."

"Oh, get over yourself, _Superboy_. It's probably almost healed by now anyway," she paused, indicating for him to search for intruders. Looking through all the walls, and listening for any heart beat other than their own and the others in the house, he found nothing out of the ordinary, though Ash's unconscious form did have an unusually strong heat signature.

"So, the League found out about the pyro?" he asked casually. Helena had told him about Ash's powers weeks ago, when the prophecy first came to light. It was clear that while she required an initial source of fire, her pyrokinesis was very powerful. Previous uses of it, however, when Helena had been present, were blank spaces in the younger girl's memory.

"Yep. As I mentioned before, I didn't exactly catch her opinion on it before she passed out."

"When? The first time or the second?"

"Oh, shut up, Metropolis. There's this little thing called patrol I'd like to get around to. You fine to come?"

The teenage vigilante contemplated it for a few seconds, and then replied, "Sure, I'll come. The cops took care of the nut and his kryptonite. You know, the cops in Gotham that aren't in the pay of criminals are actually better than the Metropolis police force."

Helena grinned beneath her mask. "Damn straight they are. Now let's get going."

And, in typical Twilight fashion, she disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

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